


Nyctophilia and Our Other Addictions

by BirdBlue



Category: DCU
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bribery, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Imprisonment, M/M, Manipulation, Omega Verse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Starvation, Villains Win (or whatever the appropriate tag is)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 11:35:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17682683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdBlue/pseuds/BirdBlue
Summary: Basically, a group of villians, led by Lex Luthor, take over the world, Batman is dead. Fucking everyone is dead. Dick is held captive by Slade Wilson and forced to become his mate, to keep himself and his loved ones safe. Slade's an evil, manipulative bastard and torturing Dickey (and various other characters) is going to be my new hobby.





	Nyctophilia and Our Other Addictions

**Author's Note:**

> So, with my second published SladeDick work, I've decided to delve into the Omega Verse. Despite the Alpha/Beta/Omega myth being out-dated and in-accurate (even proven to be false among wolves by the scientist, who popularised it, David Mech), it is an interesting concept, so I thought I might as well include it. However, it will not be the main focus of this story, more of an extra bit of drama.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

The room Dick awoke in was cold. Freezing, in fact. He opened his eyes carefully and immediately regretted it. Bright lights set in the white tiles, which covered the room he was in, blinded him and rings of light stayed hovering in his vision even after he had managed to get somewhat used to the glow. The room was empty, he noted. No furniture, no decorations, not even windows, just a steel door and white tiles. He shuddered in the icy air and it was only then that he realized he was almost completely naked, nothing but a pair of black briefs covered his shaking body. His suit was gone and he checked to see that both his scent blockers and his com were missing. He stood up quickly, which turned out to be a bad move. The room began to spin, his head throbbed and it wasn’t long before his knees buckled again. He felt it before it came, a wave of determined sickness and he retched, almost crying as an nearly clear puddle of sick sprayed from his mouth. Acid burned his throat and he gagged at the stench of it, nearly voiding his stomach of what little was still in it, again. He felt weak and ill, but he still managed to crawl away from the puddle, eyes wide, breath coming in quick bursts. His mind was racing, unwanted, unbidden memories had started to come to him and he still felt a wholly different type of nausea take hold of him.

 

Suddenly, the cold, hard metal of the door was against his back and somehow it managed to shake him into reality. A surge of anger and desperation shot through him like an electric current and he turned, using what little strength he had to bang on the door. “Let me out of here!” he yelled, knowing that his captors, whoever they may be, would probably rather kill him, but wanting to at least put a face to an idea. But even as he screamed insults and drummed on the metal, he heard the echo of his own voice along a long, long corridor and some part of him knew that he was utterly alone. No one was within ear-shot. No one was coming to get him.

 

He wasn’t sure how long he kept up the noise. It could have been hours, maybe even days, maybe just a few minutes. The endless shine of the LED lighting and the absence of any other living being near him made it hard to tell. What he did know was that when he was done everything hurt. His knuckles were bleeding, his muscles aching and shivering from the cold, his head throbbing even worse now, his throat coarse and scratchy, and his stomach hurt worse of all. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a decent meal, there had been no time, after all, and his body was starting to hate him for it. He felt so tired and hungry that he was close to fainting into darkness again and his only reaction was to curl up in a corner and try desperately to sleep, or, at least, rest.

 

He didn’t know how long he stayed in that place, but every second of it was torture. He spent the time trying to drift into oblivion, but the half-sleep he managed was always cut short, by those damned lights, the various aches and pains he was experiencing, his body needed to relieve itself (a function that had become painful and horrible now) and, worst of all, nightmares. The only exceptions to this routine was when he felt strong enough to yell and hit at the door, desperately hoping someone would hear and if not help him, at least acknowledge his existence. But these attempts to attract attention became fewer and fewer and eventually he just started waiting by the door, his knees pulled up to his chest, rocking back and forth, desperately listening for any sound, beside the incessant dripping of some far off tap, that made his mouth feel ten times drier and his throat hurt so much he would have cried, if there had been any liquid left in his body.

 

He guessed it must have been under a week, when he heard a door opening somewhere far off and footsteps coming his way. A human couldn’t survive longer than a week without water. Bruce had taught him that. Taught him that above all else the first thing to find in an unfamiliar place was water. It hurt to think of him now and he was almost grateful when the arrival of three, armed and heavily built men, wearing plain black uniforms and helmets with tinted visors distracted him. He could have taken them on easily, if he had been healthy. Now, however, he would be lucky if he even scratched one of them.

 

“Fucking hell!” one of the guards exclaimed, he was guessing that’s what they were, not sure what else they could be… Executioners, maybe? The guard took a step back, holding a hand over his face. “It fucking stinks in here!”

 

Another guard, presumably older than the others, judging by his voice and the authority he seemed to hold over the other two, rolled his eyes and growled. “That’s what you get for cooping a ‘mega up for so long. Fucking animals...” he spat and bent down, starting to tug Dick out of his kneeling pose, that had become more tightly knit now that the threat of these Alphas had arrived. “Just be thankful we won’t have to clean this shit up and help me get the bitch standing!”

 

The barked order made Dick’s instincts kick in and unwillingly he became limp and placid as they dragged him to his feet. A few moments later and he started to struggle, anger bubbled up in his chest, again. “Where am I?!” he yelled, as best he could, his voice cracked and feeble. “Where the hell are you taking me?!” He managed to land a frighteningly weak punch on one of the men’s chests before his arms were twisted behind him. “Let me go, you bastards!”

 

This earned him a slap on the back of his head, that, given his present state, almost knocked him out. “Listen, you stuck-up, little bitch...” came a low, threatening growl from somewhere close to his ear and he had to fight back a whine, as a hand gripped his hair and forced his head black. “We were ordered to deliver you somewhere and that’s what’s going to happen. Give us anymore trouble and we may ignore the bit about you having to be unharmed. I’m pretty sure we could make thing uncomfortable for you, without leaving marks...” Dick visibly shuddered at the thinly-veiled rape threat and went limp, bile rising in his throat, once more. Whoever he was being taken to evidently didn’t want him hurt, at least no just yet, and he wasn’t sure whether to be hopeful, or not. If anything it simply made him confused. Who the hell did he know, who would lock him up in this hell-hole of a room and then suddenly start worrying about his physical well-being?!

 

The journey wasn’t as unpleasant as he expected it to be. The guards made sure to accidentally drop him a few times on their way down the dark corridor, up a flight of stairs and out into the evening light, where a truck was waiting for him, but they left him alone once they were in the vehicle. After fixing a metal collar around his neck, that is. Dick knew what it was, of course. They used the same collars for meta-humans and normal criminals in Belle-Reve Prison. It suppressed a meta-human’s powers, if you didn’t have any, it would send a high-voltage electric shock through your body if you misbehaved, and he wasn’t sure he could survive that now. He certainly wasn’t sure if his guards would be careful enough with his condition not to use it. So, he kept quiet and docile, trying to ignore the panic building inside his chest and stay as inconspicuous as he could. He may be brave, but he wasn’t dumb enough to make a break for it just yet.

 

It took them roughly twenty minutes, according to the watch on one of the guards wrists, to get to wherever it was they were going to and once they lifted him out of the truck, he had no idea where that was. A tall manor house, not unlike Wayne Manor, just more modern and slightly smaller, stood before him, lit up in multiple lamps set on each story and thus, shining in the dust. He tried to look around, seeing no landmarks that told him where this was, but then a familiar scent of smoke and desperation wafted into his nostrils. Near Gotham, then, he thought, hopefully, as he was, again, dragged forward and towards the front door.

 

Once the men were ushered in by other guards at the door, they seemed to become visibly more nervous, handling Dick a lot more carefully than they had been moments ago. They took him into an elevator and to what seemed to be the top floor, then to a room at the end of a corridor on their left. Without knocking, they swung the door open, shoving Dick inside and, judging by the resounding click it made once it swung inwards, locking him in.

 

It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room and he lay on the floor, where he had fallen, looking tense and anxious. He relaxed, if only a little, when he saw no one in the obvious bedroom and his eyes widened once he, after checking for other threats, saw a table to his right, bearing a bowl with a plate of bread next to it and a glass with a jug of water behind that.

 

He got to his feet, his legs weak and wobbly, some of the pain in his muscles removed by the warmth of the room. After reaching the table, he grasped for the jug directly, too tired and thirsty to check whether the contents was dangerous, or not, and pleasantly surprised when luke-warm water filled his mouth. It didn’t take long for him to drain the jug and afterwards he managed to somehow get himself into the chair next to him. His head felt clearer and thanks to the temperature of the water, he didn’t feel as ill as he would have from drinking as much cold water on an empty stomach. His attention was caught by the bowl in front of him and he eyed it suspiciously. It looked like plain broth and smelled a little like chicken. The bread beside it was limited and was dark brown, with some seeds in it. Sunflower, maybe.

 

Then something clicked in his brain. Whoever had laid out this meal knew exactly what he had been going through. Making sure not to cool the water, or give him too much solid food after living with an empty stomach for so long. Again, a sense of confusion washed over him. Who would starve and dehydrate him to near death, then present him with exactly what he needed to be re-accustomed to a healthy amount of food and drink? His brain was screaming at him, that this was a trap, but his stomach growled, for maybe the fiftieth time in the last hour and he lifted the bowl up to his lips, again finding the temperature of the broth perfectly measured out. After a few gulps, he set it down and tore of bits of the bread, soaking them in the broth before eagerly ingesting them.

 

“Pace yourself, pretty bird...” came a deep, smooth voice from a door on his left, one he hadn’t even noticed being opened. “Eat too much too quickly and you’ll give yourself indigestion…”

 

Dick was on his feet in a heartbeat, the chair toppling over behind him with a loud clatter. Once fully standing, he tried to get into a fighting stance, but staggering and cursing, ended up supporting himself on the table. “Slade!” he barked in shock, his voice still rough and disconcertingly weak.

 

“Hello, Richard.” came the voice again and then the man stepped out into the light. He wasn’t in his suit, Dick noted, but a simple pair of trousers and a black t-shirt. Not that this was any comfort, of course. Slade was still very capable of snapping his bones in two with very little effort and Dick didn’t feel like he would be able to that fight at this point. “You look a little like an extra from Night of the Living Dead...” the mercenary said, a vague hint of amusement in his voice. “Sit down before you hurt yourself.”

 

Dick almost did as he was told, but his pride kept him on his feet. “Why the hell am I here, Slade?!” he snapped, glaring as angrily as he could at the man before him, who was still moving towards his captive, almost as though he was stalking a feral cat.

 

“If you sit down, I’ll gladly explain all that to you...” Slade said patiently, reaching for the chair and propping it upright. “I don’t need you to get overexcited and pass out. You’re already in a bad condition.” He spoke as though explaining something very easy to a stubborn child and Dick’s temper flared.

 

“So it’s my fucking fault for being locked in some awful room for God knows how long?!” He almost screamed, gripping the table to keep himself steady, his chest heaving. “Tell me why the fuck I’m here, you psychopath!” His demand made Slade’s eye close and the man heaved a deep sigh, straightening up and letting out a deep growl as he moved closer into Dick’s personal space. The younger man could smell his annoyance from where he stood and the instant Slade loomed over him he let out a small whine, his inner Omega urging him to placate and sooth the angry Alpha.

 

“Sit down, kid.” Slade ordered and Dick couldn’t help slipping into the chair, if only to get away from that narrowed icy blue eye, that glared furiously down at him. Slade seemed somewhat satisfied and leaned against the table, where only moments ago, Dick had supported himself. “Luthor won, as you know.” he began, watching Dick carefully. “He’s taken over almost every bit of North and South America and a lot of Europe and Asia. He’s appointed wardens to different areas. Mainly villains, who helped his cause, but also sympathetic politicians, etc. He made me warden of Gotham and Bludhaven, along with most of the surrounding area.” Slade paused, letting the words sink in and watching the look of anger and fear on Dick’s face fade away to seer devastation. “Most vigilantes are either dead, going to die, captured, or auctioned off to the highest bidder.”

 

Dick’s head was reeling and he felt like throwing up, again. “What about the Titans?” he croaked, his breath coming fast now. “And my brothers! Oh God, Slade, what’s happened to my family?!” His expression was almost pleading as he looked up at the man. Almost.

 

Slade looked at him hard, before answering. “Drake, and the Demon Brat are in captivity in Gotham. Gordon is dead. Both of them. As is Brown. Pennyworth, Cain and Todd are still at large. You know what happened to Wayne, Bertinelli and Kyle.” He answered in short, clipped words, not a scrap of emotion in his voice. “The older members of the Titans are mostly dead. The ones that aren’t are captured. With the exception of Stone, Reye, Raven and Harper.”

 

Dick sagged, he raised his hands to his face and stared at the floor. His brain couldn’t accept this. There was no way Steph and Babs were dead. Not the joyous, fearless pair of Batgirls. And the Titans. Dick knew he wouldn't get exactly who was dead out of Slade tonight, but images of his dead friends flashed through his mind like a film loop. And what about the ones that weren’t dead? Were they starving in some cell like he had been, or at the mercy of whatever creep they’d been sold to? And Tim and Little D… Did they think he’d deserted them? How long would they even last in captivity? A sob racked his body and his dried-up tear ducts felt moist again as water trickled in tiny droplets down his cheeks.

 

“Multiple offers have been made to purchase your brothers, pretty bird...” Slade purred, from beside him, either not seeing, or just not caring about the tears streaming down his face. “Al Ghul wants his heir back and Drake, too, for… other purposes.” Dick stiffened at this. “The Joker is quite keen on getting his hands on at least one of them as well, as are, God knows, how many others.” Dick choked a little on his own tears, a gasp sending tremors down his spine. His head snapped up to watch Slade carefully. “Of course… If I were to stake claim to them, they would have to back off. My connection to Luthor has made me higher in the food chain now.” The mercenary still kept any emotion out of his tone and face, but Dick knew him better than that.

 

“What do you want?” his voice came out as a croak and his eyes looked so tired and broken, that even Slade was almost worried.

 

Slade knelt down, in front of his captive and reached out to stroke the ball of Dick’s knee, ignoring the way it jerked away and, instead, rubbing a thumb around it, to massage the weary joint. “I want you, Richard.” he said, and this time his voice was not indifferent, or emotionless. He sounded deadly serious and a desire, almost so strong that it hurt Dick to listen, was in that deep, calm voice. Slade’s eye found Dick’s eyes and they stared at each other. Dick was dumbstruck. He had expected something like this, but he hadn’t expected it to be so direct, so all-inclusive. He bolted upright again, a bout of dizziness making him sway, but not so much as to not be able to fend off Slade’s hands, as they reached out to stead him.

 

“I will not play your whore, Deathstroke!” he hissed, looking lividly up at the man, who had joined him in standing and he was surprised when the gaze was returned with even more venom.

 

Slade let out a growl, so deep and dark, that it made Dick quiver and the air around him became hot with aggression. “If I wanted a whore, I would buy myself one, Grayson.” he snarled, again surprising Dick by the amount of fury his words had invoked. “I don’t want you as my whore, you stupid boy, I want you as my mate.” Dick began to feel a flicker of something more than fear over the pounding of his heart now, as Slade stepped closer, his hand grabbing at the collar Dick’s around neck. “Mine.” he growled again and Dick hated that his knees were shaking and a flicker of arousal was there, as well, because he hadn’t been touched so possessively in months, maybe. He threw a punch at Slade’s head, who caught it easily, holding his wrist and running his thumb along its scent gland.

 

Slade inhaled and Dick was sure he was scenting him, shame built in the pit of his stomach and he took a step back, looking down to hide his burning cheeks. “Why the hell would I except that?” he asked, tearful now. “You may not have fired that gun, but it was just as much your fault. You helped kill-” His voice caught in his throat and he really did fall this time, only to feel strong arms catching him. They were more tender than they ever should have been, as they pulled him up and against a strong, broad chest, and he shuddered, but he couldn’t bring himself to move away.

 

“He’s gone, Richard. Dead.” A rumble passed through that large chest as Slade spoke. “But you’re alive. As are your brothers. Help me help you.”

 

Dick laughed, it was hysterical and took them both by surprise. “I suppose doing this out of the kindness of your heart would be too much to ask...” he said, almost despairingly.

 

“I don’t do anything for free. You know that.” Slade chuckled himself, stroking soothing circles on Dick’s back. “But as my mate I swear I will honour you as such...” he nuzzled Dick’s hair affectionately, and the vigilante couldn’t help but sigh and relax against him. “I will protect you, give you whatever you wish for, within reason, and I will not do anything to you without your consent.” It sounded good, Dick thought. Safe. And it wasn’t as though it would be unpleasant… He’d come very close to letting Slade claim him, a total of five times, during the time they had known each other. Despite all his faults, Slade didn’t rape, and every time Dick had dragged himself off the mercenary, or put up an arm to stop him, he hadn’t resisted.

 

At least, he didn’t rape if you didn’t see consensual sex with minors as rape. Dick stiffened. Terra, the Titans, everyone Slade had ever hurt flooded back into his mind as he pushed himself away from Slade. “Is it really consensual if I’m doing it to keep you from selling my little brothers to some sick creep, who’ll torture and probably kill them?” he asked, a bitter bite to his voice now.

 

“Perhaps not in your ideology, kid.” Slade said, seemingly unfazed by Dick’s change of attitude. “But in this new world… Well, you don’t even have the right to resist me, no matter what happens with your brothers.” He stepped forward and Dick looked up at him, ready to throw an insult at him, or try to punch him again. Slade stopped him, reaching out to stroke Dick’s cheek and chin, his fingers gentle and non-threatening. “But despite what you may think of me, I’d rather not see you even more hurt than you already are.”

 

Dick wanted to argue, to fight, to ask him why the hell he had imprisoned him for days if he only wanted what was best for him, but Slade’s touch had him purring and his mind was tired and fuzzy. He let his head lean into Slade’s hand, every inch of his body craving warmth and comfort. “Fine.” he said, finally, his eyes opening, though truth be told he didn’t remember closing them, and those deep blues looked up at Slade, who was smiling, not his usual smirk, but an actual kind, happy smile, that Dick had never seen before. “I’ll be your mate. Just help my brothers.”

 

“They’ll receive food from today onward and in a week I’ll move them to more comfortable quarters, providing you behave.” Slade promised him, moving closer and Dick breathed in that wonderful scent of a contented Alpha and purred loudly. He was even too tired to be embarrassed, as Slade picked him up, moving towards the doorway from which he’d come in and into a bathroom, with blue tiles and a large white bathtub, filled to the brim with steaming water, that was being kept warm by some kind of heating regulator. He noticed Dick tensing as he brought him into the tiled room and soothed him with a patient, low, rumbling sound, halting until Dick had calmed down.

 

Dick let out a whine as Slade steadied him on the ledge of the bathtub, peeling off his black briefs and throwing them into a small laundry basket. Slade had seen him naked before and Dick honestly couldn’t be bothered to even act abashed. The mercenary had always had a habit of breaking into his apartment at importune moments. Slade picked him up again, this time lowering him into the deliciously warm water.

 

Dick felt his eyes slide shut again and could feel himself drifting off to sleep, before a soapy flannel touched his arm and his eyes slid open. Slade was washing him. Not roughly, or hurriedly, mind you, but slowly and with gentle precision. He cleaned the layers of dried sweat and other bodily fluids, or worse, off Dick without batting an eyelid and making no comment. When he reached the inside of Dick’s thigh, Dick whimpered and jumped a little and Slade offered him the flannel, letting him clean the rest himself. While he was busy with that, Slade took the shower head out of it’s socket and began to rinse Dick’s hair, before pouring shampoo into his hands and massaging it into Dick’s scalp. Dick couldn’t help the moan that escaped him at this. He couldn’t remember the last time someone else had washed him, especially not like this. It felt so good and so intimate. Slade chuckled and he found himself grinning too. “Is this how you’re going to tame me?” he asked, half joking, half serious. “With warm baths?”

 

“It’s a start.” Slade answered and Dick couldn’t tell if he was joking, either. Slade rinsed his hair and then motioned for Dick to get up, pulling the the bath’s plug as he did so. Dick clambered out, accepting Slade’s help in supporting himself and letting the man dry him off. Slade didn’t stop when he reached Dick’s inner thighs this time, but he was gentle and when Dick realized he wasn’t going to try anything, he automatically became less anxious. Slade dried his hair last, repeating the same circular motions with the towel, that he had used to massage shampoo into Dick’s scalp, then he got rid of the remaining water with a blow dyer. Finally, he handed him a set of dark blue pyjamas, that he let Dick get into himself, while exiting the room to presumably change, as well, leaving the door open just enough so that he could hear if anything happened.

 

Once Dick was done, he exited the room to find Slade sitting up in the king-sized bed, looking over something on a tablet. He was bare-chested, but Dick could see the hint of pyjama bottoms where the blanket pooled around his hips. The vigilante hesitated to join him, noticing a cup of, something that smelled like chamomile tea, on the bed-side table that was obviously on his side of the bed. Slade, without looking up, or acknowledging his presence in any other way, slid back the covers beside him, leaving a space for Dick to clambering. Once Dick was safely tucked in beside him and after he had finished sipping at the tea, with the Alpha reading beside him, Slade put away the tablet, careful to lock it beforehand. He turned to Dick, who, looking up at him, felt a little frightened for the first time in maybe an hour. “There’s still something we need to do tonight, pretty bird.”

 

Dick started to tremble and he shook his head, vigorously. “I can’t-” he began, urgently. “Not so soon… Slade, please-” Slade silenced him with a deep noise from the back of his throat.

 

“I don’t mean fucking you, kid. I’m not a doctor, but even I know, that it would be unwise.” he tutted, rolling his eye a little. “But I do need to claim you in some way.”

 

Realisation, coupled with shock, dawned on Dick and he let out a shaky breath. “Oh… Right. That.” He, after taking a few steadying breaths, turned around slowly, lying down with his legs curled and the back of his neck bared to Slade. Slowly, Slade moved and Dick had never been more aware of having someone behind him before. He let out a small whimper, muffling it with his hand. This is what he had to do to keep Tim and Dami safe, he reminded himself, staying still and trying to calm down.

 

Instead of going straight for the back of his neck, however, Slade bent down and brushed his nose over the flanks, inhaling deeply once he reached the scent gland located there. An arm slid around Dick’s waist and he was pulled flush against Slade, a strangled moan catching in his throat. Slade lapped delicately at the sensitive skin and hummed greedily, as though he was having the most delicious meal imaginable. It didn’t take long until Dick was writhing beside him, trying desperately to keep himself from letting out all those little gasps and groans. “Alpha...” he panted, blushing fiercely as the word slipped out of his mouth. Despite the misdeed, he was almost proud to hear the soft groan from the man behind him, but the slight graze of teeth against his skin had him stiffening and whimpering. A few more kisses on his scent gland, by now red and tender with the touch of Slade’s mouth, had him half-relaxed again, but Slade could feel the tenseness in his muscles an let a soothing hand stroke his stomach.

 

“Shush...” Slade coaxed, whispering softly against Dick’s flesh. “You’re being so good for me, aren’t you? It will be all right soon, my sweet Omega… Okay, pretty bird?” Dick blossomed instinctively at the praise, bending his neck to bare it for Slade and nodding. “Good boy. I’ll be gentle, I promise.” Slade intoned, satisified with Dick’s performance. And with that, he sank his teeth slowly into Dick’s tanned neck, pushing down hard until they had broken the skin, then locking his jaw there, unmovable, as he gripped Dick to him.

 

Dick cried out, despite himself, tensing, before the animal inside him forced him to go limp and boneless, letting out little keens, as Slade held him close, a growl reverberated down his vertebrae. Then it was over, Slade unclasped his jaw, lapping at the sore flesh. It had all been too easy, Dick started to think, feeling, with a little shame, that Slade’s attentions had made him half-hard. Giving in had been too easy. He should be angry, devastated, scared, but he wasn’t. Instead, he was warm and safe and he felt so at ease after all those hours in that damned room. He didn’t even flinch when Slade turned his chin, so he could kiss him and he tasted the metallic tang of his own blood on the man’s lips, instead he hummed and settled against Slade when he was done, closing his eyes and drifting off to a pleasant sleep.

 

Slade watched with satisfaction as his newly-marked Omega lay peacefully in his arms. He finally had him all to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> So? What did you think? I love feedback and reviews and if you have any suggests, want specific characters, ships or scenarios to crop up in later chapters, etc... Definitely let me know and if I like the character/ship/idea, then I'll do my best to include it! 
> 
> I don't have a fixed plot for this (more of a frantically scribbled down and very vague idea), so every little helps! 
> 
> If you find any mistakes, or if anything's unclear, then feel free to point that out, too! ;)


End file.
